


You Brought Me Back

by megyal



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-26
Updated: 2006-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	You Brought Me Back

When the Ford Escort hit Pete, there was a low thick thumping sound that Patrick was convinced he would always hear in his nightmares. What had started as a simple relaxing walk down Seventh Street to get their minds off work, spun into just about the worst day he ever had.

"Watch out," Pete had murmured, gesturing with his chin at the crazily angled car weaving in their general direction. Patrick didn't think much of it, because it hadn't been even coming directly for them. And then as the car looked as if it was going to sail drunkenly past, it suddenly took a quick determined turn. As Pete shoved Patrick away, the car hit him full on and Pete was forced into the air. He landed on the sidewalk with a thump as thick as the one the car made when it hit him, and laid very still, one arm twisted at a wrong angle.

Patrick could have sworn he was whispering "no" as he ran towards Pete, but it turned out he was actually yelling it, screaming it until he couldn't talk later, and Andy would make sorrowful jokes about the unwanted holiday from touring.

There was a young woman sitting at a bus-stop and she stood up, shrieking. "Call the paramedics!" Patrick bellowed at her and he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was obeying, flipping out her phone. He knelt beside Peter's damaged body, not knowing where to touch first, what to do. Oh God. What should he do?

There was a slight trickle of blood emerging from one of Pete's nostrils, and Patrick was sure that this wasn't a good sign. Maybe he watched too many movies. Pete's skin had taken on a waxy sheen underneath that normal gold glow, and suddenly his eyes fluttered open and stared at Patrick, who was horrified to see that the left one had gone completely bloodshot.

The right one, however, was still beautifully white and hazel, and Patrick stared into them both.

"Patrick," Pete croaked out and Patrick began to actually cry. No. That wasn't crying. That was fucking weeping. Pete's eyes closed softly.

"No." Patrick begged. "No, Pete. Stay here. Stay with me."

\--

This a weird dream....maybe.

He was standing on what seemed to be a plateau, looking over a vast dusty valley. The whole landscape was dry, touched with the reddened light of a setting sun. The thing was, Pete wasn't sure how he got here. The last thing he remembered was walking on the street (what street?) with somebody (with who?) and there had been a painful heavy push and now he was here in Nowheresville.

Except.

If this was a dream, this was the most realistic dream he ever had. The wind was blowing through his dark hair, and there was a bitter coppery smell to it....that was the smell of blood, Pete realized....and he was terrified.

How the FUCK did a person get out of Nowheresville, anyway?

The heavy red sun was near to the horizon, and Pete just stood there, hands jammed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched up, gazing around. There was a belt of trees to his right, and as he looked at it, a shadow moved stealthily within. Pete, taking his hands out of his jeans-pockets and holding them palms up, backed away, towards the edge of the flat-topped mountain.

\--  
Patrick had insisted on climbing into the ambulance, and therefore got to hear the medics shout, "He's going!"

Two terrible fucking words and Patrick watched helplessly as Pete's body began to go through an agonizing shudder, limbs flailing. Patrick suddenly grabbed on to one of those spastic hands and squeezed tight.

He bent towards Pete's ear and whispered into it, "Don't go. Come back to me, Pete. Come back to your 'Trick. I'm holding your hand. I'm not letting go... come back to me."  
\--

The shadow was at the edge of the treeline now, still hidden in the leafy growth, but Pete could make out a large shape. A large wrong lumpy shape that made a deep snarling sound that Pete could feel more than hear. It was waiting and Pete didn't know for what, and he didn't want to know for what. His feet were nearly at the crumbly edge of the plateaux, and he was thinking that if that terrible shadow decided to reveal itself, he would just fucking JUMP and to hell with the consequences.

Something flickered in the corner of his eye as he stared the shadow down, and there came a faint voice on the stifling breeze.

" _........Pete.............come back......._ "

Pete flicked his eyes in the direction of this new soft voice, and then yelped as the shadow made a sudden lunge. He fixed back his gaze back on the shadow as it prowled behind the last line of trees and deadened leaves.

What he had seen when he shifted his vision was a faint blurry form near to him, shimmering like the air over a hot road. This apparition was close to him, very close, and a wave of comfort washed over him from this new shape. Pete felt like crying in relief for some strange reason. Then a horrifying suspicion overcame him.

"What-what if this is a trick?" he gasped out, and moved back a little more, and some of the weak red soil slipped out from beneath him at the sheer edge. The shadow snarled in glee. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the shimmery shape shifted and suddenly a wispy strand of it was wrapped around his left hand and pulled tight like a velvet rope.

" _........trick....._ ," that soft beautiful voice echoed. ". _....your trick......your 'Trick.....holding your hand......not letting go......._."

His 'Trick.

His Patrick.

The shadow suddenly howled in displeasure and the leaves parted and it was HERE, it was HERE, and it was indescribable; a bastard hound, taller than he was, matted slick hair and large reddened crazed eyes. The shadow-hound was bounding straight to him, and he felt the shimmery shape beside him just solidify; he was suddenly yanked into the air, just out of the snarling fangs of the Hound, and he was SAFE, he was SAFE. Oh he was here with Patrick and he was _safe_. As the furious howling of the hound got fainter, that sweet voice was whispering in his ear.

" _I'm not letting you go._ "

\--

 

The doctors were baffled. Absolutely baffled. Peter Wentz was Not Supposed to be Here On This Earthly Plane. And yet, apart from a broken arm, a serious concussion, and a bunch of broken ribs, he was fine. The paramedics told the doctors that there had been a moment in the ambulance when they were sure he was gone, but his friend had held on to him. Held on tight.  
\--

"Where do you think this place was?" Patrick questioned softly as he sat beside Pete in the hospital bed. Pete shook his head slowly.

"I dunno....maybe it was in my head.....I don't think so though. Wherever it was, I don’t think I was supposed to be stuck there...not for so long." He turned his face to Patrick, who was glad to see that the bloodshot was finally starting to clear. "You brought me back, 'Trick. You did... do you believe me on that?"

"Yes. I do."

"And Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"I never want another dog."


End file.
